


Past

by theAsh0



Series: surviving paradise [2]
Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Dark Comedy, Descent into Madness, F/M, Saiyan Culture, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, big bro Raditz
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-23 15:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20010955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theAsh0/pseuds/theAsh0
Summary: So this is originally meant to be read with the 'present' pieces in tandem, as presented in "surviving paradise", but if you just want to read some depressing world goes to shit stuff this is where its at. explores the relationship between Vegeta and Raditz and the mess that is Frieza and his A+ parenting.  Gets pretty dark near the end. (right around 35) but its not a very happy story so.. yeah.





	1. 1x2=2 Self Esteem

**Author's Note:**

> betad by meganechan and over8000.

The two figures that welcomed the five year old prince aboard Frieza's ship dwarfed father's biggest bodyguard. One was tall and well-built, with blue smooth skin and a long braid of green hair. His green eyes held a haughty expression, his figure and hair adorned with gold silver ornaments. The other one would be best described as a pink pockmarked ball.

‘Welcomed’ might not be the best word, Vegeta considered, as he stood at attention. No, the pink one lounged against a docking port wall; his expression like that of a lazy cat considering if a certain mouse was worth getting up on his feet for. As for the blue one, its feigned indifference masked a fire Vegeta didn't quite understand. For the first time in his life, Vegeta had a foreboding. And that foreboding told him that he might well be out of his depth. 

The Saiyan prince did not swallow, did not lose his military pose. He did not even stretch his hand to fidget with the hem of his cloak, for his father had warned him to be respectful and professional. Vegeta did reconsider his chipper manner from before. Perhaps claiming the  _ "Crown Prince of Saiyans has arrived and is reporting for duty _ " was not as professional and witty as he had thought it would be…

The blue alien’s gaze slowly darkened further. After a long pause it advanced on him with a tug at his braid and half a sneer on his lips. It looked down at him as if he was a piece of feces stuck to the sole of his boot. "So, this is what we came all this way to  _ pick up _ ? Master Frieza does like to..  _ collect.. _ **.** does he not?"

The pink ball chuckled softly and stretched up from his perch, nearly reaching the ceiling as he did. "One more for the  _ exposition de raretés. _ Does it matter, Zarbon?"

"I prefer the _ taxidermy pieces.  _ They are  _ less work _ ," Zarbon waved a hand. "less of an.. Aaah.. o.d.e.u.r. as well…"

Okay. That was a lot of big words, but Vegeta knew when he was being insulted. He drew himself up another inch. 

"I am the  _ Prince _ of Saiyans, and here by _ official invitation _ of _ Frieza _ . If I am not  _ welcome _ here, however, I will be _ happy  _ to _ return home _ ." And that was the truth. Sure, it was supposedly a great honor to be picked for Frieza's elite troops, and Father had stressed that Vegeta would be in the right place  _ 'for when the time was right'  _ \- whatever that meant. YetVegeta had been quite happy on Vegeta-sei, with his people. At least they knew how to appreciate him.

A small smirk passed over Zarbon's features. Like he realised he knew something Vegeta did not, but it was quickly replaced with a stern look. "First of all, please refrain from talking back unless I ask a specific question. Second, even if I wanted to risk Frieza ever  _ remembering _ and  _ asking _ for you… the only way off this ship for you is through the dumpster. Do not think I am wasting any pod-ships on you, child."

Vegeta balled his fists to stop himself from quivering in front of these two fools. They might just mistake it for fear. Power was the one defining measure of respect in Saiyan culture, as he knew it would be on Frieza's ship. These two were obviously strong, and obviously considered of high rank —ranked higher than any of those few elite Saiyans aboard. So Vegeta supposed even a prince such as he should show deference. Yet he too, if not by position alone then for his power, deserved his measure of respect: "I am not a _ child! _ "

"Fine," the blue one sneered, "a toddler. In the name of Cold, Dodoria, what are we supposed to do with it?"

That did it. With an angry stamp of his foot, Vegeta crouched down. It was more habit than actually a fighting stance, but it usually served to intimidate. "I am a  _ Saiyan warrior _ and born with the _ greatest power level _ in a  _ thousand years _ . I have been on _ countless _ missions with Father and.-"

"I will make an exception, _child_." Zarbon ground out, suddenly up so close their noses nearly touched. He spoke in a low, soft tone Vegeta instinctively recognised as _very bad news._ "I will make an exception because I know _children_ are _slow_ , and _monkey children_ will naturally be _even slower_. But I usually only give _one warning_. And I try to keep that _subdued_ enough to land the culprit _in medical_." The slender creature hulked over him and moved a strand of his hair aside in a tic-like gesture. "If I need to give a _second one_ you land in _the morgue_ , understand?"

Despite what these creatures thought, Vegeta was far from stupid. He spluttered, his pride half a step in front of his brain. He knew the truth when he heard it, had heard his own father use that voice and kill whoever failed to comply right away. These creatures were not related to him, nor were they sworn to serve his father. They would  _ not _ show mercy.

As for his chances in a fight, Vegeta did the math; he was five. He might have been born with the highest ratings in a thousand years, but he would need several years still to become the strongest of his kind. He supposed he’d need several more to outclass ones such as these two. Several years  _ alive. _

Vegeta opted for half a nod, but it did not seem to placate Zarbon. The alien still leered down at him, as if looking for one more excuse to just blast him into the next dimension. Dodoria cleared his throat. "I forget. When monkeys say ' _ countless' _ , do they mean  _ four _ or  _ five _ ?" 

If it was not for Zarbon's stare, Vegeta would have growled. Right now he was transfixed, like a deer caught within the sights of a tiger. Which was ridiculous. He was a tiger too. Just a... _ smaller tiger _ . So, it was more like a cub caught in the sights of a hungry, really nasty tiger...

"Oh,  _ come on  _ Zarbon. He's not  _ that _ bad. In fact, he's kind of cute. Why don't we make him the ship's mascot?" Dodoria tried once more.

Vegeta's eyebrow twitched, and he broke with Zarbon’s gaze to glare at the pink blob. When he looked back up, Zarbon's angry glare had been replaced by light amusement. "Oh, _ please _ . He's _ too ugly _ . Though I suppose he's small enough. Aren’t Saiyans supposed to be bigger?"

"Hn," the fatty answered, "but if he's Saiyan at least he will be tough. We can let the grunts practice on him?"

By now the blue alien was shaking with mirth.  _ Oh, by the red planet, this could not be happening. _ Zarbon crossed his arms, relaxing as he quipped. "He'll end up dead or maimed soon enough. I may disagree with Frieza's tastes, but I think neither of us want to risk scratching his new toy. Not without good reason at least..."

The pink one tutted. "Well. I guess he looks kinda like an upside-down toilet brush. So I think he might fit…"

" _ Read my power level." _

Just like that, the joking manner was gone from both aliens. Nearly identical cold stares turned to him, bringing home that  _ neither _ appreciated being interrupted and  _ both _ had enough disregard for life to end his for such a small transgression. Where the pink giant decided against such actions once again, Zarbon was less reserved. He moved forward, hoisted the prince up by the front of his armor and warned him with a growl. 

But Vegeta did not care. He'd rather die now if they thought he'd play janitor to these monsters. He'd rather not die at all though. "If you'll...  _ permit _ me… just read my power level."

"Oh, Zarbon. Come on, why not?" The rounder of the two laughed and scrolled through his scouter's settings, joviality once again returned. He even made happy sounds of appreciation;  _ oohs _ and  _ aahs _ that Vegeta chose to take as sincere.

_ See? _ Vegeta crossed his arms. A smirk pulled at his lips as Zarbon released him to set his own scouter, obviously curious.

"Is he truly that amazing, Dodoria?" Zarbon asked, then found the right menu, finally giving a disgruntled "hn."

It was a begrudged admittance, but obviously not even Zarbon could deny Vegeta’s power. Yes; the crown prince of Saiyans was pretty amazing. He was past the level required for an elite Saiyan warrior at just five years old, and growing by the day. 

Pride returned for half a second before Zarbon went back to mocking him. "We have stronger monkeys aboard right now."

Once more Dodoria defended him. "Ah, but he is a child still. I think he's supposed to grow. That's what the monkeys do, right?"

Vegeta decided the question was addressed to him. "We are the _ greatest warrior race!  _ Saiyans grow stronger with  _ every battle! _ " Technically only the ones that got you near killed, and that was not a thing that had ever happened, or was likely to occur soon. But Vegeta liked to gloss over such details.

"Feh." Zarbon ground out, although he seemed less likely to blast Vegeta for this transgression.

Dodoria shushed him excitedly. "Oh, it’s _ nice, _ kid. _ Now read mine _ ."

"I know you are stronger," Vegeta scoffed, "but as you said I -"

_ "Read it." _

So Vegeta did, punching the commands into his own headpiece. His eyes widened as the numbers flew past his own, past that of his father, and past what was the highest recorded level for any Saiyan warrior, and then crept past an extra digit mark and up.

Dodoria's loud laughter nearly dropped him to his knees. "Great job though, kid. You must have worked _ really hard _ to get that strong!"

"Meh," Zarbon mused. "I suppose we can put him with the new recruits and see how long he lasts."

"That's the  _ spirit! _ " Dodoria guffawed. "See! We are all getting along great  _ already! _ "

If that was a question, Vegeta could not have answered if he tried.


	2. 2x2=4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meeting Frieza. Frieza is amazing.

His sixth birthday had come and gone before Frieza finally remembered his little ward, and Vegeta had just about given up on ever meeting the damned lizard. Things were not really that bad. A very small selection of recruits stayed on Frieza’s personal battleship where they trained and were instructed in a rather strict regime of lessons, practice, and publicly beating the snot out of each other. 

That last part seemed to be the only form of entertainment onboard, and depending on your opponent it could either end badly, or with a lot of fun.

So far, the biggest difference from home was that he was surrounded by other students. And, of course, how said students looked: odd, alien creatures, all snobs, and all ridiculously powerful. Monsters, really. 

Monsters, and mostly more powerful than him. That stung.

Vegeta had told himself this was due to him being the youngest recruit. And this selection of his peers was special, somehow. Every odd creature here was either royalty, a prodigy from their people, or both. 

Of course Vegeta had been part of similar groups in the past. He remembered some unnamed Saiyan children in the outdoor nursery, twice his size but wide-eyed with fear when they looked at him. Later, after he had proved himself by fighting free of that place, he had been made to spend time with other elite children. But, even though had been the youngest in that group as well, he had far outclassed his peers, both in strength and in fighting skill. He had never been one of  _ them _ ; their company provided fearful admiration and praise at best.

Out here, every one of his peers came from a background like his. Although none were Saiyan, all wielded the kind of power that made Vegeta feel like an actual child. So it was a small change, but one rather important to his ego. 

Another worrying detail was the fact that whenever the instructors felt he required special attention —on account of not having participated in previous lessons, they would do this thing amongst themselves where they’d whisper and then shrug. Then they always concluded: ‘Well.., we’ll get to that after...’

Like there was little point in putting any effort into him for now. Like there was some ultimate test waiting, for him to prove himself worthy..

So, when the summons finally came, Vegeta was more nervous than he liked to admit. The question of  _ ‘after what’ _ seemed ridiculously clear now. So he made the trip across decks from his own quarters to Frieza’s throne room. 

As he walked, he practiced his new- and quickly becoming his favourite - pastime: cursing his father and his naive plots.

_ In the right place… make it trust you…  _ Vegeta scowled at the memory. 

His father had seemed so powerful and smart back home. But here, he would just be a lowly soldier. The king’s power level was that low, or the monsters here were just that strong.

Either way, King Vegeta’s boast of becoming the next ruler of the galaxy seemed just that: a stupid, unrealistic boast. 

Vegeta could only lament where these boasts had gotten him until he reached the giant twin doors, and they opened to him all too fast. But he did not pause, and with an even tread the young prince entered the wide throne room, and even managed a dramatic billowing of his cape. 

Any doubt he might still have held over the seriousness of his situation quickly dissipated. Almost every being aboard the ship was here; sitting, standing, or lined around the walls. Yet it was eerily quiet.. At the far end of the room hovered a small throne he knew held the tyrant, but he was so far away that it was hard to be sure. The walk down the empty space kept clear just for him was uncomfortably long on his short legs, even at a brisk march. Not for the first time, Vegeta cursed his small stature. 

This was ridiculous; the number of people here was disproportionate for a gathering such as this. Vegeta was sure he saw Ginyu, Dodoria, and about every other elite soldier he had heard about or met in these last few months. Of course, Zarbon stood at Frieza’s side. The fact that he was practically beaming frightened Vegeta more than he would like to admit.

When he considered himself to be close enough to Frieza, Vegeta stopped, but the collectively held breath from the crowd told him more was expected. A salute probably would not do, so he opted for a stiff bow. 

“You asked for me my… ah.”

_ What was he supposed to call this creature anyway? _ Father used to refer to him as ‘that stinking powerful lizard’. High praise from the king, but he knew better than to repeat it. The recruits usually went with ‘tyrant’, but only in hushed voices. King Vegeta was usually referred to as ‘my Lord’... but not by other royalty. Then again, standing was derived from power, and if the tyrant was as strong as Vegeta suspected...

Help came from the most unexpected place.

Zarbon’s face had practically split in two from his toothy smile as he realized the young Saiyan’s predicament. “Oh,  _ allow me _ !” 

The blue giant disappeared from its spot at the tyrant's side and reappeared, hulking over the small prince. One powerful hand dropped down on him and Vegeta only managed to save his nose with a twist of the head before he impacted with the ground. His cheekbone groaned in protest as the pressure on his head intensified. 

“This, right there, is your  _ Lord and Master _ . You filthy monkeys are not worthy to kiss the ground he walks on. But I guess right now, you will get your chance to do just that.” 

The elite warrior was rambling, surely. But right now Vegeta was torn between the humiliation of his first public appearance and the very real possibility of having his skull crushed. He clawed feebly for the hand twisted in his hair, but every time he managed to brush it, the braided monster just pulled and slammed his head down hard. “Go on. Kiss it.  _ Kiss it! _ ”

He was going to die here. Whatever they wanted from him made no sense, and his eye socket was pressed so tight to the ground that he could not have complied even if he understood. Mortification at the situation and fear of death battled for a prime place in his mind as he struggled.  _ This can't be happening.  _

Then, with a tear at his scalp, the pressure was gone. 

Vegeta struggled to his knees, cradling his swelling eye and a pounding skull. He was missing a patch of hair, he was sure, and his cheekbone was likely cracked. He knew he had a concussion _. Yet  _ the pain fell away quickly when the small prince raised his eyes. Where Zarbon had stood a moment before, the little pink lizard stood now, one foot still raised from his kick. Vegeta quickly followed the trajectory to a Zarbon-shaped hole in the wall.

Yes, Vegeta had known Frieza would be stronger even than Zarbon; would be the strongest of anyone on board. Yet the scale in power was unimaginable, impossible. Vegeta could practically feel the waves of power coming off the the little creature. In that moment, the tyrant looked like a god to Vegeta.

“You really  _ are  _ that powerful, aren’t you..? Lord Frieza.”

Vegeta knew how to lie. He had also learned quickly how to shower fake admiration on those more powerful than him, knowing soon enough he would surpass the fools and they would meet their dues. This time, however, there was nothing fake about the admiration in his voice or the shine in his eyes. All Saiyans craved power. Mostly for themselves, but they knew how to respect it in others.

The tyrant tsked, unimpressed. “Fah. This is not even an inch of my true power. If I were to use it, I’d blow this ship apart by mistake and kill you lot. It's happened before so I try to be careful.”

However when the creature looked down on the prince, there was no mistaking that pleased smile tugging on his lips. “I guess some monkeys do know how to appreciate perfection, though. Never mind Zarbon. He gets a little jealous. So, you are Vegeta's little boy.”

Frieza did not seem bothered at all that the little Saiyan just stared up at him with his mouth slightly agape. “His son, Vegeta. Named after the planet Vegeta. You monkeys  _ do _ have your way with  _ names _ , don't you?”

Vegeta snapped his mouth shut, something within the depths of him stirred. “It is a title given to only the strongest…”

“-Yes, I know. And you were born the strongest in a thousand years. The rumored legendary Super Saiyan to be…” The lizard pulled away the hand Vegeta had cradled over his bruised eye and stared at him intently, looking for something. “And you are the spitting image of your father. No chance of a switch of identity, that is for sure.”

Vegeta tried for his pride. “Saiyans are bred for battle. We grow stronger every time. We will grow. I will grow- ”

_ To unimagined heights. _

_ Until you are the Super Saiyan, my boy. _

_ And then we will defeat the tyrant lizard, together. You and I. _

These things seemed impossible right now. The Super Saiyan was a legend, likely just a tale. This creature here was a  _ god _ , and right in front of him. 

“I dreamt of the Super Saiyan once you know.” The lizard smiled, fishing out Vegeta’s thoughts like a mind-reader and stirring his faith like an oracle. “But he looked nothing like you,” it continued, cutting the wings off a dream that was hardly ready to fly.

Vegeta swallowed as the lizard patted him affectionately, right on the lump on the back of his head. “I think I'll keep you.”

It hurt.


	3. 3x2=6 confidence

The biggest practice room on Frieza's ship was  _ packed! _ Divided in two, the half meant for spectators had filled up and overflowed unto the fighting area. The excited buzz from them had heightened the moment Vegeta entered. 

With a confident smirk, he walked to the middle of the empty side of the room and crossed his arms as he waited. He had chosen a simple piece of armor sans cape or trappings for this, but he projected royal confidence nonetheless. Recklessly he basked in the crowd’s speculative stares.

It had been a while since the prince had received this kind of attention, and it was not hard to admit there was some charm to it. Far better at least than sitting through tactical lessons or running the same basic drills with the other recruits. 

Frieza himself was present, his interest in Vegeta resurrected after it had dulled in these past boring months of schooling. Its white ball throne hovered at the edge of the battle area marked with white marble tiles. The tyrant looked small and idle, reclining in the dome with that lazy smirk. It resembled a horned pink iguana chick that had pecked a hole out of its eggshell, but was quite content to stay half hatched.

At its right hand, as always, Zarbon stood with a scowl on his face. It seemed to be his constant expression as of late. Or… perhaps Vegeta just had that effect on the long-braided alien. 

Vegeta also saw some Saiyans in the audience, which was a rare occurrence as it seemed they were purposely kept from him. His people did not appear happy to see him  _ here _ though, but Vegeta supposed that made sense. Even his own kind had a way of underestimating him. His peers however, were  _ ecstatic _ . Vegeta spotted the wolf-boy, the purple squid, and a few others. Boisterously they catcalled, with that half-mad glint in their eyes he recognized as staring death in the face from a little too close. 

All thought he was committing suicide. Vegeta disagreed.

Evening recruit fights were just about the only entertainment on board, yet usually the fights were of little consequence. The soldiers that came to watch got their jollies by riling up the winner into dragging things out, goading the victor into torturing the loser for their enjoyment, or playing with the unconscious body. 

But Vegeta wanted something more than a weakling to torture for fun. He wanted recognition. Vegeta was going places; straight to the top. Or, at least out of the recruit class and into active service as fast as possible… and that meant taking some calculated risks. 

So when Dodoria asked who Vegeta wanted to fight- actually asked Vegeta- he’d simply pointed at the creature in front of him. The pink alien had lowered its round face to his, confused at first. Then it had muttered something about crazy monkeys, and accepted.

Why had Vegeta chosen the ball-shaped powerhouse as his opponent ? Well, Dodoria was high enough up in the PTO hierarchy to earn Vegeta some much-needed repute. Yes, everyone on board might well agree Vegeta was a crazy monkey for doing this- perhaps the craziest monkey of all. But they had given him what he had wanted out of this: he had their undivided attention.

After today, no one would ask ‘Say are you Vegeta's son?’ After today, no one would ask ‘What is that kid doing here?’ and after today no one would ask ‘aren't you a little small for a Saiyan warrior?’. Because after today they would know of him; win or lose, he would be  _ feared _ .

As for the risk, Dodoria was actually professional, all things considered. Sure, it poked fun at Vegeta with name calling, but it did that to everyone. Also, its temper was one of short explosions and not of drawn-out pain. And as Dodoria had little to prove by fighting him, Vegeta was pretty sure that if he did lose, he’d go to the med-tanks with his pride and most of his body still intact.

But Vegeta was not counting on losing; no, he was betting on  _ winning _ this thing.

Dodoria finally entered and it walked straight up to tower over Vegeta like an elephant over a kitten. It held its wide girth over him like that for long seconds, casting a great shadow over the prince. But Vegeta held his position and smiled up casually.

The jeering shushed a little as Dodoria shook its pink head at the boy beneath him, obviously confused, and Vegeta took up a fighting stance. Perhaps it had thought to call the Crown Prince of Saiyan’s bluff by now. But of course, Vegeta never bluffed.

“Well let’s get this over with,” the elite rumbled and tightened its ham-hands to fists. 

Vegeta grunted, stepped back. And then, he stepped back again as the hulking creature swung. Dodoria turned and twisted, only slightly annoyed while its small opponent kept his distance. It even grunted in understanding as Vegeta played it safe, swinging easily and full of confidence. 

After several minutes of sparring in this manner, the giant warrior was not even winded. Content, perhaps even. But this was not the game the Saiyan prince meant to play. He had something a little wilder in mind. So Vegeta tried a different tactic. “You really are kind of slow.”

The comment didn't seem to anger Dodoria, but it did have the intended effect. “How about we step it up then?” the giant asked, its pockmarked features turning into a wicked grin as it jumped and threw an impressive number of punches. All within a few seconds. 

A few blows grazed Vegeta, but when he dropped to all fours and unravelled his tail, no more came close. This way, Vegeta traded defense for maneuverability and danced out of the way of every strike. Blocking was useless here anyway, Vegeta realised as he watched another tile broken to bits by a missed punch; if he took one of these hits, it would down him.

Running backward out from a particular nasty hook, Vegeta kept backing up until his elbow hit the moving wall of spectators. He was sweating, mostly from the thrill. And so he smiled. “Is that all you can do?  _ Shadow boxing? _ ”

Dodoria’s skin darkened from its usual pink. Without warning, it reached an arm out and shot ki at Vegeta. The crowd shrieked as both Vegeta and the spectators scrambled out of the way frantically. But Dodoria was not distracted, and its blasts followed Vegeta across the room and up the walls, with just enough care not to completely cut through the hull walls and out to space.

Dust rained down, the blast rang in his ears as he flew higher, then ran across the ceiling on all fours. At the next explosion, Vegeta dropped down, turned quick, and took his chance. 

The slight Saiyan doubled back and closed in, hidden by the flying rocks and dust. He reached the giant’s foot and ran up, using his tail to cut sharp corners. Finally, he scaled Dodoria’s back until he reached the neck of the giant's armor. Once there, he grabbed on and flattened himself down behind the round alien’s armored shoulder blades.

After a few tense seconds, Vegeta realised that things had turned out better than he could have hoped. Thought he could see little of the pink creature’s face, the way Dodoria turned his head to the left and right as he searched the area made it obvious: Dodoria had no idea where the Saiyan had disappeared to.

As the crowd started to jeer, Vegeta could not help himself. He pulled himself up by the hem, placed a hand over his eyes, and pretended to look around as well. Then he gave a mocking shrug and blasted his best ki attack down the neck of Dodoria’s armor.

The giant screamed. The crowd whooped. He was nearly thrown as Dodoria turned, around and again, like some oversized rodeo horse. Vegeta took another shot as Dodoria’s thick arms flailed about uselessly. The monster was simply too fat to reach him. 

Emboldened, the prince shot another blast, this time in the creature’s ear, and with another scream Dodoria dropped. For a moment, Vegeta nearly crowed in victory. 

Then Dodoria rolled and Vegeta lost his perch on top of its back. He ran like a dog on a treadmill, taking a good kick at the monster’s face in passing as he evaded the grabbing fingers. On the next rotation he managed a pin-prick ki-blast, but soon he was too busy evading and running to attack further.

Then it happened; he lost traction and was raised up in the air as the round elite got back to his feet. Vegeta found himself dangling upside down with his tail in a vice-like grip. Yes, this was - of course- the risk from the start.

“Ah, damn! You got me,” he told Dodoria as the elite’s dark-red face came into view. “No hard feelings, right?”

Yet the twitch of Dodoria’s puckered eyebrow phased Vegeta; “No hard feelings,” the giant echoed, somehow bringing home that there definitely were a lot of hard feelings. Hard, painful ones.

Well, if he was fucked anyway, he might as well make it count. Vegeta brought his arms together and released the biggest blast he could muster. It managed him a drop of at least a foot before the fist closed on his tail again. 

Then the giant turned in a pitching motion, and Vegeta sailed in an arch, following through until he made impact with the ground. The bright pain had not even died down before he moved backwards, out from the rubble and started to fly once more. His last thought was he must look like a puppet getting smacked around by an angry toddler.

When he woke up, he was floating and not hurting anymore, drifting slowly and comfortably in healing fluids. Time went by unmeasured as he bobbed, slow current moving through his hair. Sometimes his mind brushed at questions like how he had gotten here, or how the fight had ended. But then his consciousness shied away, content to stay inside this quiet isolation. 

Suddenly he was jerked awake by a muffled knock on glass. With some effort Vegeta focused his eyes on the shape outside of the med-tank; it was Dodoria. Vegeta almost misjudged the look on Dodoria’s face as a grin.

“Congratulations. Frieza was much impressed. You’ve made it into active duty.” Then Dodoria punched the glass, a little too hard; hairline cracks appeared and the giant’s features twisted into an ugly sneer. “And all you had to do was make me look the fool. But mark my words. You will pay me back in full for this.”


End file.
